His(26)

“What do you have to give me?” he asked.

“I won’t tell you my parents’ names,” I said. I’d decided that I couldn’t give in. Not for a bathroom, not for clothes or food or water.

“No matter,” he said. “I already have them. And their address.”

My mind went blank.

“How—how…”

“A lot of information on public record, you know. And your birthday— my, that’s soon, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

That’s right. My birthday was in two days. I’d forgotten. Tears welled in my eyes. I’d planned to go out with Jules and get trashed, dance until dawn and celebrate my hangover with an omelet at Manny’s diner. I wouldn’t be celebrating anything now. And my mother—

“You’ll be twenty-three,” Gav said, pacing slowly in front of me. “That’s a bit old for a college student, isn’t it? Or are you a grad student?”

“No,” I said, blushing even in the dark.

“Again, no matter. Schooling is overrated. I haven’t used my medical degree in years. Well, I suppose I’ve used it a bit. Helps to know a tibia from a scapula when you’re pulling limbs off of people. But med school was overkill. I might have done as well learning how to be a butcher.”

I thought of the professor on the table, the saw coated in blood.

“Don’t hurt my parents,” I said. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Yes, you will. You’ll do whatever I ask regardless. But don’t worry, I have no need to kill. Not for a while, anyway.”

“Then why did you ask about them?”

“Ah, kitten!” He bent down, crouching. “I was curious. Like you were curious, kitten.”

I closed my eyes. I had been curious. Too curious.

“It smells down here,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Please,” I said. “I’m dirty. I’ve been pissing in paint cans. I can’t...”

I trailed off. He tilted his head.

“I wondered why you hadn’t asked to use the bathroom.”

He reached forward, and I flinched, but he only unlocked the handcuff from around my wrist. He offered a hand.

“Come upstairs. Use the bathroom.”

I looked up at him suspiciously. What was this, a trick?

“Do I need to threaten you to do this? Come on.”

I stood shakily. My hands were both bandaged from the cuts, but he took my arm and helped me up the stairs.

The light upstairs was so bright it made my eyes swell with tears. I wiped them away clumsily with my hand. We walked slowly through the living room, then up a set of stairs. He didn’t try to rush me, only held me gently with one hand. I suppose he knew that he could kill me easily if I tried anything.

I peeked over once at him. He had a blank expression on his face. His chest was smooth all the way down to his bellybutton, and then a patch of dark hair led down beyond the top of his pants. I bit my lip and looked away.

There was a lot to look at. This place was a mansion. Everywhere I looked, opulent furniture filled the rooms and expensive-looking oil paintings with gold leaf frames decorated the walls. At the top of the stairs, a crystal statue of a four galloping horses greeted us. Their manes shimmered like glass.

“This isn’t the end, kitten. Keep moving.”

I couldn’t keep the wonder out of my voice.

“How do you have all this stuff?”

Gav chuckled.

“One man I brought here tried to bribe me. He had a few million wired to my anonymous bank account. Ended up being very helpful. Right through here.”

I headed down the hallway he’d gestured to, leaning on him a little more than I had to.

“Did you still kill him?” I asked.

“Of course. He’d seen my face.”

I stopped mid-stride.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’ve seen your face.”

“Yes, you have,” he said. “But I didn’t bring you here to kill you. Regardless, you’re not leaving anytime soon. You are not leaving ever.”

I looked ahead with a steely gaze.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.

“Right in here,” he said, pushing open a large oak door. “Through the bedroom.”



Gav

I watched as she walked into my bedroom. Her eyes darting everywhere, so curious. Her gaze picking across my bedstand, my dresser, my walls. It was strange to see the room as she saw it, with new eyes. I saw myself reflected in her sight: a clean monster. A tidy villain. A serial killer with good taste in linens.

In the bathroom, she rushed to the window and I almost yelled out. She stood there silently, though, her fingers on the sill, looking outside. The pine branches in the nearby forest waves slowly at us.